


Primeiro [First]

by gimmefire



Series: The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When I was working for Jordan I said to Eddie Jordan 'he's a good kid, we should get him signed up' and we got as far as a seat fitting. But in the end Eddie did him a massive favour by signing Ralph Firman instead!" - Rob Smedley, 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primeiro [First]

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by [mackem](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mackem).

**_January 2003._**  
  
Rob's on his way into the Jordan factory car park when he notices. At first, all he does as he passes by is glance over at the person bent over beside their car, digging through a holdall in the passenger side. He continues to his own car without thinking much of it, sliding into the driver's seat and shivering hard against the bitter January cold. He can see the other man - small and rather slight, but for the thick layers he's wearing to keep warm - still rummaging around, extending his search to elsewhere in the car. It's only when he turns and the interior light casts across his face that Rob recognises him - and remembers that he'd left the factory about half an hour previously. When the young man clambers back out of the car and pulls his scarf over his head and face in apparent frustration, Rob drops his satchel on the passenger seat and braves the cold again.  
  
As he approaches, a biting wind snatches papers from inside the young man's car, and Rob somehow manages to catch them, one between his palms and the other under a foot.  
  
"Hope this lot isn't important!," he grins, picking the now slightly damp and muddy sheet up from the asphalt.  
  
Felipe Massa looks around sharply, fumbling the scarf away from his eyes, and seems a little taken aback by Rob's sudden appearance. He stares, wrapped up so completely against the cold that those wide, dark eyes are almost all that's visible of him. Rob speaks again. "You alright?"  
  
Felipe blinks and tugs his thick scarf down so he can speak. "Thank you, yes." When he accepts the papers, he thanks Rob again. He takes a deep breath. "I don't know where my key is. For the hotel."  
  
"Can't you ring them? The hotel? If you've got ID they can probably give you another one."  
  
The sheepish look that crosses Felipe's face almost tells its own story. "I don't remember which is my hotel."  
  
Rob laughs incredulously. "What?!"  
  
"I was there only for ten minutes today!" Felipe's embarrassment deepens visibly and he hunches his shoulders, shrinking into his scarf. "Mm dmm nmm nyby hmm..."  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
Felipe pulls the scarf away from his mouth again. "I don't know anybody here," he murmurs.  
  
Suddenly it's impossible not to feel for the kid. Rob chews his bottom lip in thought and winces when the wind whips across his face; it accelerates his decision-making process. "Right, I'll tell you what. I don't live too far away. You follow my car--" he points across to it - "I've got a spare room you can have for the night."  
  
The Brazilian at least attempts to refuse Rob's offer, for all of around five seconds. They're both cold and Felipe appears to have few immediate options, so...  
  
"I'm Rob, by the way."  
  
Felipe smiles widely. It makes Rob curious. "Rob," he repeats, letting the word roll off his tongue. "I am Felipe."  
  
  
It's Rob's turn to be the sheepish one as he arrives home with an unannounced houseguest. Lucy is a little surprised - even moreso at the explanation given - but accommodating, and Felipe puts on no airs and graces as he sits down to a small meal with the two of them. The conversation flows, something Rob didn't expect; it's a quick rapport he has with the easygoing Brazilian.  
  
"So you still can't remember the name of your hotel?"  
  
Felipe gives a small shrug. "Is close to the airport."  
  
"Fuckin' hell, I knew you drivers were a thick lot, but..."  
  
"There are so many hotels there, and I was there only for a small time!"  
  
Rob laughs at Felipe's protestations, and in turn the young man smiles shyly. Between the three of them, they clear the table and settle in the living room.  
  
The television - switched on before they were all seated for some background noise - goes from normal volume, to turned down, to turned off; the way the two of them spark off one another renders potential televisual conversation starters unnecessary. Lucy slips off to bed some way before eleven, leaning down for a parting kiss from her husband before leaving the two men to one another.  
  
They talk about Jordan, about Sauber, about colleagues, about pranks, about heavy nights, about paddock things they wouldn't talk about in front of Lucy that make Rob cackle with laughter; he makes a mental note to apologise in the morning for being loud. It's approaching midnight when he breaks out the half-decent red wine and invites Felipe to move to the empty seat on the sofa beside him.  
  
"There anything else I should know about you if you're gonna be joining the team?"  
  
"I'm quick to learn, like I am quick to drive!" Felipe says earnestly, gesturing with his glass. "I think I improve on the set-up of the car a lot from--" He stops when Rob holds up his hand.  
  
"No no no, it's not a fucking job interview, mate," Rob chuckles. "Other stuff." Felipe gives him an odd look and seems unwilling to respond until Rob gives an example. "You any good at making a cup of tea?"  
  
Felipe looks relieved, then faintly embarrassed. "I don't know! But for the other stuff, I can say that I am not so tidy. And the mechanics and my physio say all the time that my feet smell...not good."  
  
"Oh, is that what it is? I thought something had died under the floorboards," Rob drawls.  
  
Felipe grins and deftly twists himself around without spilling his drink to wave a foot in Rob's face, insisting that he should hurry up and get used to it. Rob shrinks away, wrinkling his nose in genuine displeasure until Felipe relents with a laugh.  
  
"Do you think I will look nice in yellow?," he then asks, giving Rob a coy look.  
  
"I think most people would have a job looking nice in that much yellow," Rob responds quite ruefully.  
  
"But do you think _I_ will look nice in yellow?," Felipe presses, lifting his chin with a mischievous smile. Rob just chuckles.  
  
As the conversation continues, Rob notices something. When he talks, Felipe pays close attention. In fact, he pays close enough attention that he watches Rob's lips as they move. It could be that he's unfamiliar with the accent; working through most of his career with Italians and more recently a Swiss team, perhaps he simply hadn't come across a Boro accent before. A little lipreading might help him. He hadn't seemed to be struggling up until now, but perhaps he was too polite to ask...  
  
All of this would be a perfectly reasonable, robust explanation if that was all there was to it, but Felipe is also watching Rob's lips when he himself is talking. Not constantly, but his gaze quite subtly flicks between Rob's eyes and lips. Not subtly enough, though.  
  
Something seizes Rob, some curious urge unfurling and tugging at his lizard brain. It makes his tongue dart out to lick at the corner of his mouth for the explicit purpose of getting a reaction from the younger man. It doesn't take a great deal of study to catch; Felipe actually stumbles over his words. It almost makes Rob laugh aloud. But it could have been a coincidence, so...  
  
Rob allows his tongue to sweep from one corner of his mouth to the other, the tip grazing all the way along his top lip as it moves. This time, instead of stumbling, Felipe adds an overly long pause to his words where a pause has no business being, and looks down at his hands to collect himself. This time, Rob cannot bite back the grin it conjures up.  
  
"You alright?," he asks innocently.  
  
Felipe blinks, then smiles bashfully. "Sometimes the words..." he gestures with one hand while sneaking a long glance down at Rob's mouth. "Is difficult, you know?"  
  
"Oh yeah, absolutely." Rob responds very seriously. He should stop teasing the poor kid, but...well, he doesn't want to. "And it helps to read my lips, does it?"  
  
Felipe stares at him, then laughs, embarrassed. "For sure, it helps a lot." he seems about to say something else, but he hesitates, looking away. He then mumbles into his glass. " _Talvez fosse mais fácil se eu te beijasse..._ "  
  
"Oh come on, that's not fair," Rob protests. "I don't speak Brazilian."  
  
"Portuguese," Felipe corrects, grinning. "And maybe you should!"  
  
"It wasn't anything horrible, was it?"  
  
"I don't think so," Felipe responds with a mysterious smile. "I think it's a very nice thing. If I drive for Jordan, I will teach you."  
  
Rob grins. "Oh, well then, I'll see if I can convince Eddie myself!"  
  
He doesn't press the matter anymore - for now - but he does wish he had a Portuguese-to-English dictionary to hand. And a way to look at it without Felipe noticing. And some understanding of the pronunciation...  
  
The conversation rolls along, settling on football for quite a long time, the two of them sunk down low on the sofa as they talk. Rob props his feet up on the coffee table, bringing his knees together and allowing his legs to fall open every so often. It's visibly distracting Felipe, which is good, because it's helping to render his argument that São Paulo are infinitely better than Middlesbrough incoherent at best. He eventually reaches out and grabs Rob's knee to keep it still so he can finish his point and have it actually make sense.  
  
"You make it so difficult for me to say things!" he exclaims, exasperated, hand still on Rob's knee.  
  
"How is it my fault if your English is shit?" Rob teases.  
  
"No, _this_ ," Felipe grips the knee and waggles it up and down. "Is difficult!"  
  
"My leg is difficult, is it?"  
  
"Yes! ...No, I mean is--"  
  
Rob is shaking with silent laughter. It's far, far too easy. Then Felipe pushes down on his knee until his thigh muscles complain loudly about their sudden overuse; Rob swears and protests and twists to face his antagonist to relieve the discomfort, trying to prise him off with his free hand. Felipe grins at him, eyes sparkling with amusement. " _Caralho._ "  
  
"Fuck, I can tell _that_ was something horrible," Rob says, ruefully rubbing his inner thigh when Felipe releases him.  
  
The Brazilian lifts his eyebrows and nods, faux-impressed. "Ah, you are more clever than I think!"  
  
Felipe looks at his mouth again, pressing his wine-stained lips together, and Rob does nothing to dissuade him. He's actually enjoying it a little more than he perhaps should.  
  
 _Maybe he fancies you._  
  
The words spring unbidden to his mind.  
  
 _Does he? Maybe. He keeps checking out your lips and giving you those eyes. Maybe it's a Brazilian thing. Maybe it's a weird habit. Maybe it's just him being friendly or something.  
  
Maybe he fancies you._  
  
And, as a straight, married man, he's actually enjoying it a little more than he perhaps should.  
  
Felipe isn't looking at his mouth at that moment, however. He's peering through his lamentably empty glass, frowning at the dregs of his third glass of wine.  
  
"Y'want more?" Rob asks eventually.  
  
The Brazilian finally pulls his eyes away and stares at Rob, a faint glaze already visible in his dark eyes. "More?"  
  
"Wine," Rob chuckles, shaking his head. "Fuckin' hell, you're not that much of a lightweight, are you?"  
  
"No!" Felipe exclaims. "You say more, but you didn't say... _what_ , you know?" And Felipe makes it quite clear what _he_ means by more as he looks Rob up and down for much too long to be considered subtle.  
  
Rob lifts an eyebrow. "Right," he murmurs. Felipe offers him his glass and another of those coy, _flirty_ looks.  
  
The _maybe_ part of _maybe he fancies you_ is no longer a relevant part of his thought process. He discards it, leaving 'he fancies you' to sit there in big flashing neon letters squarely in the middle of his mind. Felipe holds his gaze long enough for him to feel his face heat up under the scrutiny. "Right," he murmurs again, softer, more contemplative.  
  
Rob clears his throat and leans toward the coffee table, beginning to pour the wine, grateful for a few moments to collect his thoughts. Across from them is the television, and on glancing in the direction of its blank, reflective screen, he notices that Felipe is watching him; another, longer glance tells him that Felipe is not just watching him, but _looking him over_. The Brazilian is slouched back on the sofa, one hand draped over his stomach, the other up behind his head as he lets his eyes slowly roam over Rob's back, his shoulders, down his spine... He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and chews on it, eyes settled where Rob can feel the hem of his shirt has lifted, exposing a sliver of skin at the small of his back. Rob can't help but stare.  
  
Felipe suddenly locks eyes with his reflection, and it's enough to make the breath catch in his throat. Then he feels wine spill over his hand.  
  
"Shit!" he exclaims, not unreasonably. He feels Felipe abruptly sit up beside him, the two of them forcibly snapped out of the moment. "This is definitely the last glass if I can't even pour it properly..." He sets the bottle down away from the mess and offers a brief and nervous laugh.  
  
They clean up the spill between them, Rob silently thankful that neither the carpet nor the documents on the table received any damage. His glass is filled to brim, however; he carefully lifts it up to wipe away the purplish wine ring beneath it.  
  
"I can help," Felipe says suddenly, and before Rob can say anything but a hushed, strung together _ahhhbecareful_ , he leans forward and gently cups Rob's hand, bringing his lips to the rim and sipping until the wine within is in no danger of spilling. He presses his lips together and looks up at Rob, still cupping his hand, eyes full of overt innocence. "You don't mind, no?"  
  
Rob's cheeks are flushed a deep pink. It isn't solely down to the alcohol. "Bit late now," he mumbles, unable to get his brain in gear to think of anything else to say.  
  
"Well, you know, there is a little bit left..." Felipe responds devilishly. He lets his hand slip from around Rob's and taps just beneath his wetted, wine-tinted lips. "You can take, if you want."  
  
Rob's eyebrows positively _soar_ up his forehead. The words reverberate around his brain. He can't quite get his head around this. _You can take, if you want. You can take..._  
  
He realises he's been silent for too long.  
  
"No. No, you're alright," he eventually replies. "Thanks, though."  
  
Felipe licks the traces of wine from his lips and smiles. Rob is struck once again in that moment by just how young he looks, and it sits very uncomfortably with his other thoughts. _You can take, if you want._  
  
 _Jesus. He looks about seventeen. He's got puppy fat. He's got hair that doesn't know what it's doing. He's muscular, yeah, but does he even shave yet?_  
  
"How old are you again?"  
  
"Older than you think," Felipe replies immediately with a wicked grin, a dark lick of mischief through his voice. Almost as if he was expecting the question at some point. "You want to see my passport?"  
  
He flops back on the sofa in that slouched position without waiting for an answer, shifting his shoulders until he's comfortable and setting one foot against the edge of coffee table. He allows his propped up leg to fall to one side - _open_ , Rob's brain offers - and looks up at his host.  
  
Rob doesn't laugh, not really. He exhales sharply, and it could be construed as a laugh, but it isn't. It's more as though Felipe is taking his breath away. He puts his drink down and settles back onto the sofa, a little closer to Felipe than before.  
  
"What was it you said earlier? The thing in Portuguese." Rob asks, something in the back of his mind telling him he shouldn't. "The very nice thing."  
  
Felipe's expression changes, the wickedness fading away to be replaced by trepidation. He pushes himself upright. " _Fosse mais fácil...se eu te beijasse._ "  
  
"And what does it mean?"  
  
"We...we talk about learning English, you know," Felipe says haltingly. "And I say...it would be easier for me to learn if..."  
  
He doesn't finish the sentence. He stretches for his wine glass, buries his face in it and takes a big mouthful, his eyes flicking down to Rob's mouth again, and back up. It doesn't seem as though he's unsure of the words he needs, just...unwilling. Rob doesn't relent.  
  
" _Jass_...that last word."  
  
"... _Beijasse._ "  
  
" _Beejassi._ " Rob's accent is terrible. Felipe gives a rather pained, but affectionate, smile. Silence settles between the two of them, dark eyes held by blue.  
  
Felipe appears to steel himself with an intake of breath, stretches to set his glass back down on the table, and translates his earlier words again, slowly, carefully, and this time, fully. "Maybe it would be easier if I...if I kissed you."  
  
The words roll through Rob and dance across his skin like a shockwave.  
  
"I should go. To bed." Felipe breaks their gaze and abruptly gets to his feet, shattering the moment. Rob feels his stomach swoop as Felipe turns away, and before he can think about what he's doing, he reaches out and grasps Felipe's wrist.  
  
Felipe looks back, startled, but doesn't pull away.  
  
"You don't have to," Rob says softly.  
  
He watches Felipe swallow and look down at the hand still holding his wrist. He watches Felipe gently pull free. He watches Felipe turn to face him again, and ease his small frame back onto the sofa, one leg tucked under himself, body angled towards him. He watches the uncertainty in Felipe's eyes as he leans forward on his hands and--  
  
Felipe kisses him, one swift, brief press of his lips, and it's like an electric shock. It was coming, he _knew_ it was coming, _he knew_ , and it still strikes through his whole body, bright and scary and thrilling. Felipe wets his lips and stares back at him, visibly sharing all the bright, the scary and the thrilling, and leans in again. Rob's pounding heart deafens him. He welcomes Felipe's second kiss without another thought.  
  
It's strange. It's _strange_. Unfamiliar. There's stubble - so he _does_ shave - and rhythm to a gentle mouth that's new to him. Felipe licks at his bottom lip. Asks for more. He opens his mouth, and a tongue swipes over his. He makes a sound between a groan and a whimper, and Felipe is moving, easing himself into his lap, legs open wide, never once breaking the kiss. Felipe's palms press against his chest, doubtless feeling his racing heart. The hands slide up to cup the back of his head, and a soft moan vibrates against his mouth. His hands grip the muscular, spread thighs, sliding jerkily along to the hips. Felipe's kiss is hungry, filled with a passion that Rob can't drag himself away from.  
  
Felipe pushes back into Rob's hands and then rocks forward, the press and rub of his crotch another dizzying shock to Rob's system. He feels Felipe's cock against his own, hardness there, sliding along his length. Felipe rolls his hips and groans, Rob's fingers tightening reflexively at the sensation.  
  
Felipe finally breaks away from Rob's mouth to smear wet kisses along his jawline and down his throat. Rob blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling, senses overwhelmed. His hands won't move. His breath is coming in gasps. Felipe's tongue is tracing his collarbone and his eyes are wide open.  
  
" _Stop stop stop stop_..."  
  
Rob whispers it so quietly and so desperately and his mind is so scattered that he's not sure if he spoke at all. Felipe freezes. His breath caresses Rob's neck and it sounds so loud.  
  
He sits up slowly. He looks startled, eyes wide and glassy. He blinks. He blinks again.  
  
" _Desculpa_..." Felipe murmurs, then corrects himself with a small, confused shake of the head. His expression begins to slide into distress. "I...I am sorry."  
  
He eases awkwardly out of Rob's lap; Rob feels as though his hands are leaden as they slip from the young man's thighs. Felipe retreats, shrinks away from the sofa, away from _him_ , and he cannot bring a single word to his lips as he watches Felipe disappear up the stairs.  
  
Rob takes some long moments to try and get his head together. It doesn't work. His face feels hot and his breathing is laboured. His body is thrumming with arousal. He's half hard. Shit, he's half hard...  
  
He eyes the unfinished wine with a level of disgust and slopes up. Scrubbing both hands over his face and through his hair, he finds his fingertips trailing down his throat, the sensation of the press of Felipe's lips still on his skin. "Fuck," he whispers in disbelief.  
  
After emptying the contents of the wine glasses down the sink and setting them down on the draining board, he ascends the stairs himself.  
  
  
The spare room is at the opposite end of the landing to his and Lucy's bedroom. Rob doesn't bother turning on the landing light, the dim glow of the moon and streetlamps outside enough to guide him once his eyes have adjusted, and reaches his own bedroom door before he glances over his shoulder. His skin prickles at what he sees.  
  
The door is ajar, and Felipe stands inside the darkened room peering cautiously through the gap. His eyes shine in the faint light. He stands still enough that Rob wonders if he hopes he somehow hasn't been seen.  
  
Rob clears his throat, but his voice is still thick when he speaks. He can't really think of anything to say, except...  
  
"Goodni--"  
  
The door closes before Rob can finish speaking.  
  
  
Rob is not hungover when he wakes. He's fuzzy around the edges. Not fuzzy enough, he can't help but think; the previous night hits him hard moments after his eyes open. He rolls over to find that Lucy is already out of bed. The next thing he's aware of is the sound of voices downstairs, and the front door opening and closing.  
  
He drags himself out from under the covers, battles with a t-shirt and a worn pair of pyjama pants until he's significantly less naked, then shuffles downstairs to find Lucy in the kitchen making two mugs of coffee. He has to clear his throat three times before his voice shows itself.  
  
"Who was at the door?"  
  
"Oh, nobody - Felipe just left. Said he didn't want to disturb you, but thanks for the bed. And the wine," she adds in a mildly chiding tone. "You might still catch him if you nip out now."  
  
"Right, yeah," Rob murmurs distractedly, dragging a hand through his messy bedhead. "Yeah, I think I will..."  
  
He jogs - actually _jogs_ \- to the door and gets both bare feet on the freezing cold concrete path outside before he does an abrupt, curse-laden backwards leap back into the house to pull on his slippers.  
  
His discomfort is rewarded by the sight of the Brazilian just opening his car door a little way down the road. Breath puffing out in billowy white clouds in front of him, Rob strides onwards, ignoring the biting cold morning air, until Felipe looks around at the sound of his slippers scuffing the pavement. He slows, then stops some feet away.  
  
"You not one for goodbyes, then?"  
  
All wrapped up warm again, only Felipe's eyes and nose are visible. His gaze flicks away as he closes the door without having gotten in and pulls his scarf away from his mouth. "I didn't want to disturb you..."  
  
"I know." Is it tense? It feels tense. Rob feels tense. "What about your key?"  
  
Felipe doesn't reply, and doesn't make eye contact, for a long time. Rob watches his shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh. Then the younger man speaks.  
  
"I knew where the key was."  
  
Now that, Rob did not expect.  
  
"You _what_?"  
  
Felipe wilts a little, looking down at his hands like a child being disciplined. "I knew where--"  
  
"No, I heard what you said. You..." Rob trails off with an exasperated sigh, because he can't add anything else except another _what_ , or perhaps _fucking what_ , and then they'd just be going around in circles. Felipe turns to face him.  
  
"I notice you," he says, and meets Rob's eyes. "I see you in the factory yesterday. I think I see you before, in the paddock. I remember your face, and your laugh. And also the smile. I...I notice you." He takes a deep breath. "I waited to see you in the car park. I think maybe I only want to talk to you, but then I talk to you and I...want more than that."  
  
Felipe twists the end of his scarf around his fingers, looking more than a little hopeless. "The key was in my pocket for the whole time..."  
  
" _You_ \--" For a moment Rob is genuinely angry, a real ripple of fire going through him; It burns out just as quickly as it appears.  
  
 _I...I notice you. I waited to see you. I talk to you and I...want more than that._ The warm weight of Felipe's thighs spread atop his and the rhythm of his passionate kiss cuts a vivid streak through his mind.  
  
Felipe looks stricken. The frown on Rob's face smoothes away at the sight.  
  
"I was stupid. I'm sorry." Felipe says. Again.  
  
Rob watches him, something he can't, _won't_ put a name to churning inside him. It's something that's too much to think about while stood out in the bitter January cold in a t-shirt and pyjama pants.  
  
But it is _something_.  
  
Steam billows from his lips in swirling clouds two, three, four times before he finds the words.  
  
"Don't be," he says quietly.  
  
The stricken look on Felipe's face is swept away, replaced by what can only be described as surprised hope. It actually makes Rob chuckle, despite everything. Before Felipe can say anything else - not that things could be made much more complicated with words at this point - Rob nods to the Brazilian's rental car. "You'd best get going, yeah?"  
  
It takes Felipe a few moments to snap himself out of it, but he eventually nods with a goofy smile on his face, fumbling to pull the door handle without moving his gaze from the man before him. Rob tells him with an amused shake of the head to concentrate, and he eventually manages it.  
  
The last thing Felipe says to him, before he closes the door, fires up the engine and drives away, stays with him.  
  
 _Now for sure I hope I drive for Jordan!_


End file.
